


Water and Tears

by parttimehuman



Series: Rarepair Galore [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, F/F, Softness, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parttimehuman/pseuds/parttimehuman
Summary: Malia lets the emotions overwhelm her while Kira is taking care of her in the shower after their first time together.





	Water and Tears

It takes just a split second for the whole world to turn upside town and tear her apart in the process. Just the blink of an eye, and when it opens again, there are tears welling up that want out. She doesn’t want to give in to her need to cry, because she hates weakness more even than all the other things she hates in the world, but a part of her knows she won’t be able to keep it together. Probably not. She’s walking on the brink of breaking down for a few unreal moments, her mind focused on breathing, her body shaking, not yet ready to give up its fight. 

 

But then she hears the noise of a bottle being uncapped, and that special scent fills the space around her, and it’s that very scent that once was the first sign of what was happening to her, so as soon as a hand brushes her shoulder softly, she breaks. Or maybe she doesn’t really break, because it’s not visible from the outside at first, and there are no cracks in her perfect façade for now, no shreds being left behind. Maybe falling is a more accurate word, since at first, there’s not much of a difference to flying, but then she nears the ground and suddenly, the crash is all she can think about. 

 

It’s the smell of coconut and sweet lime that’s doing this to her, and the heat inside the fogged up shower cabin. It’s the pressure of the water jet hitting her back, and the tenderness. It’s the feeling of a bath sponge gliding over her smooth skin and the way her muscles start relaxing because she can’t stop them. 

 

Except that really, it’s none of those things. Really, it’s the girl that’s kneeling in front of her, lifting one of her feet up first and then the other, rubbing the wonderful scent into the skin of her legs with deliberately slow, circling movements, kissing the spot just above her knee when she’s done, letting go of her ankle, looking up to her. 

 

It’s almost like an hour ago, or maybe two, when the same pair of almond shaped, brown eyes met hers from that same angle, but it’s also different, in a way. There’s a completely different purpose behind it now, as they’re in the shower getting cleaned up, opposed to when her thighs were quivering around the angel-like face that was bringing her pleasure like she’d never known it before. A whole other purpose, and yet something about the feeling that it brings to life inside her remains the same, because she’s just as open and vulnerable and defenseless as before, maybe even more so. 

  
  


Another squirt of body wash is dribbled onto the sponge. One hand comes up to her hip to hold her steady, a kiss follows right next to the long, gentle fingers, a reassuring smile before the softness and suds travel up the inside of one leg. She whimpers faintly when the sponge brushes over her outer lips. It doesn’t hurt, but she’s a bit sore, a lot more sensitive than she’s used to. 

 

“Sorry,” Kira whispers, “are you okay?” 

 

She doesn’t know how to answer. It feels like the little shower cabin isn’t part of the same bathroom of the same apartment that she used to live in anymore. It feels like all of her nerve endings have been replaced by new ones that are twice as responsive to Kira’s touches. The sound of the other girl’s voice, the the light shining from the bathroom headlight, even the familiar scent of coconut and sweet lime, nothing is the same anymore. Is she okay? Yes and no. Better and worse. Broken and healed. Different. New. 

 

Malia nods, because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She tips her head back and lets the hot water soak her hair, the tears on her face mixing with drops of just plain water. It feels good. She feels more complete than she has in a long time, starts to feel fresh and clean for more reasons than just the water running down the curves of her body and soap smoothing her skin. She doesn’t know where she’s taking the courage from, the courage to let herself go, to give up control. It seems like she can only stand on her own two feet because Kira’s there, holding her, every stroke of a thumb, every brush of her lips, every gentle squeeze providing her with energy, but she doesn’t mind. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t mind being the one who’s being taken care of. 

 

Kira takes her wrists and holds her arms out so she can clean them as well. She rubs her back thoroughly, lets the bath sponge run over every inch of her tired body, taking extra care when the touch of one of Malia’s nipples makes her squeak just a little. The indents of Kira’s teeth are still visible around it, which fills Malia with something warm and fluttery. 

 

She’s had sex before. A lot, actually. She’s been with boys, she’s been with girls. She’s never been shy about getting what she wants. She’s been kissed breathless before, and she’s been touched in all the most intimate places before. But the kisses have never tasted like Kira, and the touches have never been so maddening, have never left quite so many goosebumps on her skin, have never made her quite so craving of more. 

 

Black painted fingernails have never looked so pretty on her skin, have never felt so incredible digging into the flesh of her ass. The tingling of warm breath against her neck has never been so intense. She’s never wanted anybody to leave their mark on her body as badly as she wants for Kira to do it. The moans have never before come from so deep down inside her, silky strands of hair have never done the same things to the insides of her thighs before. Never. 

 

Up until that point, it was fantastic, incredible sex. Up until that point when she arched her back off of the bed and buried her fingers in Kira’s dark hair, when she made an obscene, strangled noise while literally coming right in the other girl’s face. It took her several moments to come down from that orgasm-high, to calm down her racing heart and ragged breathing. Up until that point it was an experience worth a big fat smile and a sloppy kiss, maybe a triumphant high-five before collapsing down into the damp sheets. 

 

But at that point, Kira decided to take their thing into a new direction, one that no amount of sex and no number of previous relationships or hookups could have prepared her for. Getting what she wants is one thing, getting what she needs a whole other pair of shoes, apparently. 

 

Because what’s happening in the shower isn’t about the sex anymore. It’s not about her being naked and Kira being allowed to touch her. It’s not about that. It’s too warm and too soft and too silently satisfying to compete with anything she’s known before. It’s too new and too good and too much to deal with. It feels like Kira is peeling off a shell that she’s been hiding in, slowly unravelling what lives inside, welcoming it with a smile and a kiss. 

 

“Hey, what’s that?” Kira asks when she’s reached Malia’s face, spreading the body wash on her cheeks with just the two thumbs of her hands. “Are you crying?” 

 

“No,” Malia smiles, because as she’s looking into those beautiful brown eyes, she knows that there’s no reason to ever cry again. “That’s just water.” 

 

Kira doesn’t believe her, and she can live with that. She lets her turn her around by the shoulders and tip her head back just a little, closes her eyes when Kira starts washing her hair, massaging the shampoo in with skilled, loving hands. A few more tears can’t be helped, but that’s okay, too. They’re not the bad kind, and Malia tells herself she’s got until the water’s off to let them all out. She’ll be smiling all day everyday from then on until forever, probably. 

 

There are a few more firsts yet to come, but Malia doesn’t have any reason to complain. Nobody’s ever rubbed her dry with a towel, or blow-dried her hair. She hasn’t been put to bed in many years, hasn’t had anybody turn her back around and make her the little spoon for once. She also hasn’t been sleeping quite so easily, quite so well in forever. And the tears are left behind, drained along with the water, because she doesn’t need them anymore. 


End file.
